Shenodded. “Yeah, what do you think of that?”
Ishrugged. “I don’thateit, but he doesn’t look like an Ichabod to me.”
Shesighed, and I sighed, and I wondered if it was a good thing I was already wellinto my thirties without any prospect of children on the horizon. Because,bestowing the name someone would be stuck with forever, was nothing to takelightly.
Then,he jumped onto the coffee table, and proceeded to nudge a Van Halen CD caseonto the floor.
“Hey,”I scolded, jumping up from my chair to take the case away. “You don’tdisrespect Eddie like that,” I said, and the little blue-eyed kitten looked upat me as something clicked into place.
Iturned to Kylie, who was already looking at me with the same expression ofrecognition. “Eddie,” I said, and she nodded. “Like, Eddie Van Halen.”
“AndEdgar Allan Poe,” she said, pressing her hands together. “Oh God, can you imagine?We could name him Eddie Van Allan Poe.”
“Or,what about Edgar AllanVanHalen?”
Herbrilliant blue eyes sparkled. “I love it so much.”
Inodded, and grinned. “Yeah, me too.”
?
Lifeis full of ups and downs. Right after the high of adding Eddie to our apartmentand our little family, Kylie left home the next evening to go on a date withsome guy she met at the library. I grumbled my way through a quick dinner ofmicrowavable macaroni andcheese, andwas about to siton the couch when my phone rang.
“Answerthat, will you?” I asked Eddie, but he just continued to attack a toy mouse.Realizing he wouldn’t be much help, I reached over to the end table and grabbedthe phone. “Hello?”
“Devin,where are you?” It was my father, coming through the speaker in a panickedhurry.
Myreaction was to drop the macaroni and cheese to the coffee table and stand up.“At home. Why? What’s up?”
“Yourgrandfather fell taking a shower a little while ago. We’re taking him to thehospital.”
“JesusChrist,” I said with a heavy-weighted sigh. “Is he okay? Is he—”
“He’sgot a good-sized gash on hishead,the paramedics sayhe has a mild concussion and we’re pretty sure his hip is broken. We’re waitingon the X-rays.” Pop fell silent for a moment before adding, “Dev, he can’t bealone anymore. This has to be it.”
Inodded solemnly, bringing a hand up to my forehead. “Yeah, I know,” I said in agravelly voice. “What hospital are you going to? I’ll meet you there.”
?
Mygrandfather—who insists we, the grandkids, call him Billy to keep him fromfeeling old—was arockstar. An actualrockstar. Once upon a time, he had toured with the greatestartists in blues, opening for people I would’ve killed to see live just once inmy life. The man was also legendary in his own right, a musical powerhouse, andhe was my hero.
Andnow, he was lying in a hospital bed, frail and weak.
“Youcan’tmake meleave my house,” he told my dad, twisting his wrinkled oldlips into a snarl like my father was the enemy for wanting him to be safe.
“Dad,this is thethird fallin the past year,” Pop tried to reason with him.
“Sowhat? I’m clumsy,” Billy snapped, crossing his arms. TheIV line restricted his movement and he tugged. “Can one of you get one of thosenurses to take this thing out of my arm, for crying out loud?”
“Billy,”my mom chimed in from beside his bed. She took his hand and patted his arm.“You need to settle down, okay?”
“Why?Because I’m old and in the hospital? What the hell do you think is going tohappen to me? You think I’m going to break?”
Ipressed a fist to my mouth, stifling my chuckle.
“Well,”Pop said, “youdidbreak your hip.”
“Don’tbe a wise guy,” Billy retorted with a sour glare at my father. “And you’re not makingme leave my fucking house,” he added, just to ensure we knew he wasn’t keen onthe idea.
